The Vagrant Duke

The Vagrant Duke
By George Gibbs

The Vagrant Duke
The Splendid Outcast
The Black Stone
The Golden Bough
The Secret Witness
Paradise Garden
The Yellow Dove
The Flaming Sword
Madcap
The Silent Battle
The Maker of Opportunities
The Forbidden Way
The Bolted Door
Tony's Wife
The Medusa Emerald

COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Copyright, 1920, by The Story Press Corporation
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS
Prologue
I Introducing Peter Nichols
II New York
III The Overall Girl
IV The Job
V New Elements
VI The House of Terror
VII Music
VIII The Placard
IX Shad Is Unpleasant
X "Hawk"
XI Ancient History
XII Confession
XIII The Chase
XIV Two Letters

XV Superman
XVI Identification
XVII Peter Becomes a Conspirator
XVIII Face to Face
XIX Yakimov Reveals Himself
XX The Russian Pays
XXI The Inferno
XXII Retribution
XXIII A Visitor

THE VAGRANT DUKE

PROLOGUE
At the piano a man sat playing the "Revolutionary. Etude" of Chopin.
The room was magnificent in its proportions, its furnishings were
massive, its paneled oak walls were hung with portraits of men and
women in the costumes of a bygone day. Through the lofty windows,
the casements of which were open to the evening sky there was a vista
of forest and meadow-land stretching interminably to the setting sun.
The mosquelike cupola of a village church, a few versts distant,
glimmered like a pearl in the dusky setting of wooded hills, and close
by it, here and there, tiny spirals of opalescent smoke marked the
dwellings of Zukovo village.
But the man at the piano was detached, a being apart from this scene of
quiet, absorbed in his piano, which gave forth the turbulence which had
been in the soul of the great composer. The expression upon the dark

face of the young musician was rapt and eager, until he crashed the
chords to their triumphant conclusion when he sank back in his chair
with a gasp, his head bent forward upon his breast, his dark gaze fixed
upon the keys which still echoed with the tumult.
It was at this moment that a door at the side of the room was opened
and a white-haired man in purple livery entered and stood in silence
regarding rather wistfully the man at the piano, who raised his head
abruptly like one startled from a dream.
"What is it, Vasili?" asked the musician.
The servant approached softly a few steps.
"I did not wish to intrude, Highness, but--"
As the old servant hesitated, the young man shrugged and rose,
disclosing a tall, straight figure, clad in a dark blue blouse, loose
trousers and brown boots liberally bespattered with mud. The glow of
the sun which shot across his face as he came forward into the light,
showed swarthy features, level brows, a straight nose, a well turned
chin, a small mustache and a generous mouth which revealed a capacity
for humor. He was quite calm now, and the tones of his voice were
almost boyish in their confidence and gayety.
"Well, what is it, Vasili?" he repeated. "You have the air of one with
much on your conscience. Out with it. Has Sacha been flghting with
you again?"
"No, Master, not Sacha," said the old man clearing his throat nervously,
"it is something worse--much worse than Sacha."
"Impossible!" said the other with a laugh as he took up a cigarette from
the table. "Nothing could be worse than a Russian cook when she gets
into a rage--"
"But it is, Master--something worse--much worse--"

"Really! You alarm me." The Grand Duke threw himself into an
armchair and inhaled luxuriously of his cigarette. And then with a
shrug, "Well?"
The old man came a pace or two nearer muttering hoarsely, "They've
broken out in the village again," he gasped.
The Grand Duke's brow contracted suddenly.
"H-m. When did this happen?"
"Last night. And this morning they burned the stables of Prince Galitzin
and looted the castle."
The young man sprang to his feet.
"You are sure of this?"
"Yes, Master. The word was brought by Serge Andriev less than ten
minutes ago."
He took a few rapid paces up and down the room, stopping by the open
window and staring out.
"Fools!" he muttered to himself. Then turning to the old servitor, "But,
Vasili--why is it that I have heard nothing of this? To-day Conrad, the
forester, said nothing to me. And the day before yesterday in the village
the people swept off their caps to me--as in the old days. I could have
sworn everything would be peaceful at Zukovo--at least, for the
present--" he added as though in an afterthought.
"I pray God that may be true," muttered Vasili uncertainly. And then
with unction, "In their hearts, they still love you, Highness. They